


Wouldn't Leave It Alone

by LucySpencer



Series: Those Graces [40]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:35:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3750052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucySpencer/pseuds/LucySpencer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which bensidy reunites while Nick invents conspiracy theories and makes brunch plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wouldn't Leave It Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! Apologies for the delay...for whatever reason, this one didn't want to come easily. Let's hope the next one isn't the same...
> 
> This is chapter 40, but I restrained from doing something monumental like killing someone off just to mark the occasion. You're welcome. As always, I so appreciate all the love (and hate) from all of you- without it, none of this would ever get done.
> 
> **A/N:** this chapter is very mild. Warnings for obnoxious little brother Nick, conspiracy theories, Oprah, and references to Titanic (Brian's secret guilty pleasure movie). Not everything about the last chapter is explained here, but rest assured- there's more to come next time. Once again, title and all quotes from _every breaking wave_ by U2.

_{summer I was fearless_  
now I speak into an answer phone  
like every falling leaf on the breeze  
winter wouldn’t leave it alone} 

You liked having Nick around.

Technically, it was probably safe for him to go back home now. But he didn't seem to be in any hurry to return to his empty house, and you were in even less of a hurry to be alone in yours yet again. So as long as this arrangement was working out for the two of you, there didn't seem to be any reason to send him packing, not when you both felt relieved to once again have someone to come home to at night.

Of course, there were moments every now and then where the thought of tossing him out on his ass sounded especially appealing.

"Woah, you're back early," Nick says when you walk through the door, waving up at you from where he's lying on the couch watching one of his novelas. "Holy shit. You actually got bored with having sex, didn't you? I wasn't even sure that was _possible_ , but-"

"Nick, shut the fuck up," you say tiredly, dropping your bag on the floor and throwing open the refrigerator.

"Wait, what happened?" he asks, having instantly switched from comedian to guard dog when he realized you weren't laughing. "What the hell did he do to you? Did he say something? And if you tell me 'it's not like that,' I'm gonna go ask him myself."

"Nothing happened. It's not...we're okay, he and I. Everything's gonna be fine."

"Well, that sure sounded convincing." 

You pull out a bottle with your green smoothie in it because it's too early for beer- and because it looks like that’s the only thing in the fridge that Nick hasn't touched. "He's not going to leave his wife."

"And...that was surprising?" When you sigh and act like you're going to walk away, he quickly apologizes. "Sorry, I'll stop with the jokes. Promise."

"Why do I even talk to you about all this shit?"

"Because otherwise you know I'd just find your journal and read all about it there?" 

"I don't have a journal- what? I don't!" You take a sip of your drink and make a face, deciding it doesn't taste as good after it's been sitting for a few days. "Anyway- he and I, we've both got other lives. That's our reality, you know? And I don't even _want_ him to give that up. Not when I'm not willing to do the same."

"You're saying that if he showed up here tomorrow and said he'd just finalized his divorce, you'd say 'nah, I'm staying with dumbass'?"

You set your drink down and look Nick squarely in the eyes, hands folded on the tabletop. "That's not going to happen. It was _never_ going to happen. We just weren't meant to be those people, alright?"

"Why are you trying to convince _me_?" he asks, looking mildly amused.

"I'm not! Look...I love him. I'll love him until the day I die," you say, echoing what you told Elliot earlier, "and I know he loves me. That's all I need to know. But we agreed, he and I did, that we have to focus on the lives we have rather than keeping one foot in reality and one foot in something that doesn't exist. I don't have a future with him, but I do with Brian." At least, you think you do. It's hard to tell. After all, the last time you saw him was the night of that horrible conversation about the baby that didn't exist, and the last thing he said to your face still rings in your head. _Go get mad at the son of a bitch who raped you_.

"And...you're okay with that?"

"Sure," you say to save time, because your levels of okay-ness and _not_ okay-ness would take hours to properly explain, and you need to end this conversation soon so that you can go shower...because quite frankly, you can still smell your earlier activities all over yourself. "I mean, we're still friends. It's not like we're banished from each other's lives. I'll see him again in a couple days, actually."

"Oh. So the only difference is that you're not having sex anymore."

"Who said we weren't?" you ask nonchalantly, going over to the sink to rinse out your smoothie bottle.

"I don't know. Are you?"

You shrug, again trying to come up with an abbreviated version of the story. "We're not stupid, we know it'll happen again. Better to just accept it and focus our energy on making sure no one else gets hurt."

"By which you mean, not getting caught."

"Well...yes. No one wants that, least of all me, but...it's not like I'm intentionally making plans to have sex with him, but if it happens- then it happens and we're not going to make a big deal out of it- _what_?"

Nick's face is bright red and his nose is scrunched up like he's on the brink of hysterical laughter. "Oh man...do you even listen to what you're saying? Man! That is the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard!"

"Goddamnit, Nick! It's not funny, okay, this is my life and this wasn't something we just decided on a whim. We were up all night talking it through and there's a lot more to it than you know."

He actually does look repentant when he gets up and comes over to stand next to you. "So tell me."

"No! It's not your business. I'm not going to tell you just so you can add it to the letter you're writing to get me on that show, what's it called-"

"Fix My Life? Iyanla's helped a lot of people, Liv, and she could help you too."

You roll your eyes. "I actually used one of your Oprah quotes on Elliot, if you can believe that. The one about how you don't have to condone what happened to you in the past, but you have to give up hoping that you'll ever be able to go back and change it."

"And?"

"And he said he remembers that episode. What is it with you guys and Oprah?"

"She's a smart lady. She really knows her stuff," Nick says seriously. "But I'm sorry, I'll try to behave- as long as you're okay. Because if you're okay, then I'm happy. No matter what stupid shit you come up with."

"Thanks...I think?" You reach over and squeeze his shoulder, relieved that the interrogation is over. 

"So you wanna know what I was thinking about while you were gone?"

"Probably not."

He ignores your hesitation. "You ever wonder what Brian's really up to? Cause I've known some guys who worked in IA- not well, but I did know them- and they weren't gone all the time."

"He's not cheating on me," you say in a rush.

"Woah, defensive! That wasn't even what I was gonna say. Although now that you mention it, he _does_ have a sketchy track record..."

"He's never cheated. And if you mention the hookers, I swear to God-"

"He could have this whole double life! This one guy on Avenida Brasil, he has two families, his wives know nothing about the other and it's gone on for years. They just think he's away on business all the time but he's not, he's with the other wife."

You stare at Nick from over the top of your glasses. "He doesn't have two wives. Or even one."

"Why not?"

"Because he's Brian? He couldn't keep it a secret for that long. The guilt would get to him- well, if he didn't accidentally spill the beans first. Which he probably would."

"Man, you have so little faith in him. But maybe you're right. I mean, remember when he told the whole room about how that hooker jerked him off?" He laughs at the memory, shaking his head. "Good times. That was hilarious. And uncomfortable, actually."

"Nick, where is this going?"

His expression abruptly turns serious. "Okay, Liv, I'll be straight with you. I think Brian's working for the CIA. He's a spy."

"What?" Now it was your turn to burst out laughing. "No. No way."

"Why not?"

"Because he's Brian? I dunno, don't they usually recruit people who have some sort of special skill? Like people who worked for military intelligence, or computer hackers, or people who speak obscure languages."

"And you know for sure that he doesn't do any of those things? Think about it- he comes and goes, he never says a word about what he's up to..."

"No," you repeat, more confident this time. "If he was, he would tell me. Maybe not the specifics, but...I think I would have to have _some_ sort of warning before we lived together so that I didn't accidentally say or do something that blew his cover, right? And why am I even thinking about this? The CIA doesn't want him. I'm sure of that."

"True. Maybe it's not him they really want. Maybe it's you. They've got you under surveillance- or what if he's a recruiter? He's a double agent working for the Russians, and he's trying to earn your trust so he can convince you to spy on the department from the inside."

"Then he's doing a pretty shitty job, because it's been a year and a half and he still hasn't lured me over to the Soviets."

"Intelligence work takes time, Olivia. Can't rush that stuff."

"That is the dumbest thing I ever heard," you say, repeating his line from earlier as you pick up your vibrating phone. It's a text from Secret Agent Cassidy himself, telling you he'll be home tonight 'but late so don't wait up'. "I've had enough conspiracy theories for today, Nick, I need a shower and a nap. Being the girlfriend of a spy is exhausting."

"It's not a theory if it's the truth!"

_your Google search history, an hour later_ : **'how do you know if someone is a cia agent?'**

{every gambler knows that to lose  
is what you’re really there for}

"Hey," you say softly as Brian climbs into bed next to you. He freezes for a second, obviously not expecting that you would still be awake at this hour.

"Jesus, Liv, I thought...I was trying to be quiet." It's funny how he still thinks that you actually get any sleep when he's gone- at least, the kind of sleep that doesn't involve passing out while clutching an empty bottle. "I...I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd be this late but then something came up and...you know."

"I know," you lie, because of course you know nothing other than that he's been God knows where doing God knows what for days, and the last time you were face to face he all but admitted that he still thinks you're broken. That you're too fragile to have the one thing you've always wanted and oh, by the way, that he doesn't believe you when you said you weren't raped. 

"So, uh. I know you're probably still mad at me."

"I'm not," and this time you're not lying. You're not angry, because how can you be? After all, he was right, he was right about everything and at the heart of it you're just plain afraid. When you were having that conversation with Elliot, it was easy to convince yourself that you and Brian would work this out. You always have before, right? But the more you thought about it, the doubts kept piling up. It's how things always seem to happen in your life- the more you want something, the more you let yourself believe in someone- that's when everything falls apart. You know the pattern all too well by now.

"Oh. Well. Maybe you should be."

This gets your attention, and you turn your head to the side so you're face to face with him. "I should?"

"Yeah. I...I did a lot of thinking while I was gone and...I'm kind of a dick."

"That's all you came up with?" you ask dryly, the two of you exchanging tentative smiles.

"Yeah, by the time I figured that out- I was tired of thinking." He lays his hand flat on the mattress, palm up, and you curl your fingers around his. "But I realized I was kind of a hypocrite. And a dick. Because I get pissed at you for not talking to me, but...that goddamn trial, Liv, it made me so fucking angry that I just wanted to shut everyone out, you know? Including you, which was a dick thing to do."

This wasn't what you expected to hear, not by a long shot. "It's...it's fine, I get it. We don't have to talk about it. It’s in the past."

"I thought it would be over by now, y'know? I thought I'd feel relieved. I mean, I should, right? He's never gonna see the light of day again. If we're really lucky, maybe his cellmate will cut off his nuts and he'll bleed to death, and-"

"Okay, Bri, can we change the subject?"

"It wasn't fair to you! He had no right to twist everything to make it sound like your fault. How the fuck does he get away with this shit over and over?"

"It's okay. It's in the past-"

"No! It's not okay!" he says, and you can't stop yourself from flinching as he pulls his hand away from yours and sits up abruptly. "Fucking...I'm sorry, babe, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm...shit. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Just... keep your voice down, you'll wake Nick up. I'm fine."

"I swear to Christ, can you stop with that word? Just for once, can we be _not_ fine? Cause I don't know about you, but I'm really not. And I know you're going to give me some lecture about sexism and how I'm just buying into society's expectations of gender roles-" and wow, you had no idea he had paid so much attention to you all this time- "but I feel like I fucked up, like I couldn't protect you when it happened and I couldn't protect you from having to relive the whole thing over again, and I know what people had to be thinking. You overhear people saying shit like 'well, if that was my girlfriend, the son of a bitch would be dead already'- like it's so easy, you know, like I'm slacking, or if I would've been there in the first place, then maybe-"

"Then maybe I wouldn't have run off to fuck a stranger and then cried rape when I regretted it later?"

"What the fuck, Liv, no. There's...I know that's not what happened. No way in hell have I ever thought that, I don't care what anyone says."

"But you've heard people say it. And you can't tell me that doesn't bother you, because it _should_." You get up out of bed, leaning against the windowsill and watching the clouds floating across the night sky. "This is what I didn't want to have happen. This is why I wanted you to stay away from the whole thing, because I knew how ugly it was going to get and...you didn't deserve to be dragged into the middle of it."

"But you did?"

"I didn't have a choice."

"Did _I_? Honestly?" he asks. "I mean, what was I supposed to do, just run away? After everything we'd already been through?" 

"I wouldn't have blamed you."

"Liv, c'mon. I'm a dick, yeah, but not a massive one...at least, I don't think I am," he adds, pausing like he suspects you might argue with him about that one. "I wasn't gonna let you deal with it all alone. It's like...remember in Titanic when Rose tells Jack to go away so she can jump off the back of the boat? And he says I can't, because it's too late. I'm involved now. You jump, I jump."

This bit of movie trivia finally gets you to turn around and look at him, albeit with a slightly confused frown. "No one's jumping off a boat here, Bri. And anyway, he ends up dying because she won't move over and let him float on that door with her, so I don't know where you're going with this analogy."

"Well, what if that was us? Would you move over so I wouldn't drown?"

"What? Yes, of course, I'm not going to let you die of hypothermia."

"See? And I'd do the same for you," he says with an air of finality, like he's glad you've sorted that out.

"Well...I appreciate that, don't get me wrong, but shipwrecks aside..." You go back to looking out the window, trying not to think about what drowning must feel like. Helpless, probably. You wonder if the instinct to fight, to struggle toward the surface, stays with you until the very end or if a point comes where you accept your fate and just let yourself be pulled under. "I would've been okay, you know. I don't need you to feel like you have some kind of obligation to me because...that's not what you signed up for, this whole thing."

"This whole thing."

Drowning people don't look like they do on TV, you know that much. They don't scream and thrash around and wave their arms. They slip away quietly, too focused on doing everything they can to save themselves to waste precious oxygen crying out for help, and other people can watch it all unfold without realizing what they're witnessing. "Yeah. I mean, isn't that how this started, we were just having fun and then suddenly...it's not so fun anymore. I just can't help but think you would've been better off..."

"What, if I had just bailed on you?"

"Maybe. You shouldn't have had to go through this all."

"And neither should you." You're not supposed to get too close to a drowning person. You're supposed to toss them a life preserver and let them find their own way out of danger while you watch from a safe distance, because if you dive in to rescue them yourself, they'll probably just pull you under right along with them. "Plus, how many times have you been there for me? Weren't you the one who drove out to my mom's to see me practically every day after I got shot? And it wasn't even for sex. That's some dedication, right there."

"Bri...shut up," you say fondly, pretending that he didn't coax a smile out of you with that one. 

"I'm serious! And then with everything that came after...you're the one person who stuck by me, y'know."

"Yeah, but that was different."

"How come? Just because it was me and not you?" he asks.

"No, it's...look, you don't owe me anything, okay?”

"I know." When you shake your head, he tries another tactic. "We're way past the point of tallying up who owes what to who, aren't we? Liv...I promise you I didn't start this whole conversation so you could feel guilty about...whatever. What I was trying to get at is. Well. It's."

"If this has to do with the Titanic, Brian, I swear to god..."

"It doesn't! All I mean is...I like you. Kind of a lot. And the only thing I could think of while I was gone is...I'm not ready for this to be over. Us. Not now, when we finally have a chance to start living our lives without all of the...I dunno. I'm not good at this whole talking about feelings shit, you know that. But I swear to God- you're the best thing that ever happened to me. Seriously." You try to speak but only manage a nod, biting your lip. "So this is my really roundabout way of saying that I'm a dick, and I'm sorry. And I wanna make this work." 

You duck your head so he can't see your watery eyes, and you don't know if you're crying out of relief or guilt or fear that one day he'll change his mind. "I can't understand why you're so good to me sometimes."

"I told you why." Sensing that the conversation was quickly headed toward uncomfortable territory, he made the wise decision to change the subject. "So, uh. When can we give Little Orphan Amaro back to his real family?"

_{like every broken wave on the shore  
this is as far as I could reach}_

"Hey Liv?" he asks later, when you're right on the edge of falling asleep.

"Mmm?"

"Would you be mad if I, well, you know. Went to talk to someone?"

"Talk to someone like a therapist, or...?" When he nods, you raise an eyebrow at him. "Why would I be mad?"

"I just didn't want you feeling like I was...I dunno. Going behind your back, like I just wanna bitch or tell someone all your secrets. Cause I know you don't like...people talking about you." He looks uncertain, like he's half-expecting you to reach over from your side of the bed and slap him.

"No. I, uh, no. I wouldn't be angry."

"You don't sound like you're sure about that."

You prop yourself up on one elbow to get a better look at him. "No, it's not...I'm just surprised. I didn't know it was something you're thinking about."

"It really wasn't. You know I don't like all that...sharing your emotions or whatever. But then I realized that you're bad at it too, probably worse than me, and you still go and...I mean, you're glad you do, right?"

"I am. At least, most of the time...but can I ask, why now? What made you decide?"

"You'll get upset."

"I won't." When he frowns skeptically, you add "I promise."

"It's like I said before...I thought I'd feel better once it was all over. That's what everyone tells you, y'know. That you'll finally have some sorta closure, and I _don't_. I'm more pissed off now than I ever was cause I feel like he got away with it and...it just makes me so fuckin angry. Like, I'm angry that I'm this angry. Does that even make sense?"

"Yeah, I...I know that feeling. And it's...I'm sorry. It's my-"

"If you say it's your fault, I'm kicking you to the couch."

"Nick's already there."

"Not my problem," he says with a shrug. "You're the one who brought him home, that makes him your responsibility. I know they look cute when they're puppies, that's how they reel you in, but then they turn out to be a lot of work."

You lie back down, scooting closer to him and resting one arm over his shoulder. "You're ridiculous. But seriously...if you think it'll help you, then I'm all for it."

"I just wanna make this work. Us. He doesn't get to take that too."

You close your eyes, suddenly overwhelmed because this whole thing is so foreign to you. He hasn't left, but not only that- he doesn't _want_ to. It's not just inertia, and it's sure as hell not because staying is the easier option. For some reason that you can't comprehend, he thinks you're worth fighting for, and it might not be your dream life but it's still more than you ever thought you'd have. 

"Liv? Babe, are you okay? I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine, I'm okay," you promise, leaning in to kiss him before your voice betrays you. It's soft, unhurried, your palm pressed flat against his chest while your other hand cradles the back of his head. 

"This alright?" he asks when his fingers trail over the strip of bare skin where your shirt's ridden up, and you try not to think about the last time you two had started messing around (the _only_ time since the trial ended), where things had been fine until you abruptly panicked, shoved him away, and spent the next hour and a half showering. So in other words, not a success. 

"Yeah, this is good." You feel the pad of his thumb brush across one of your scars, a raised line that wraps around your side just below your hipbone, but you don't pull away. "I want to...I mean, I'd let you see them, if you wanted. My scars."

"You...what?" he asks, obviously thinking he must have misheard you while you were sucking on his tongue.

"Not...I don't think I can sit down and point them out one by one, but if it just...happens...you said it, you've pretty much seen them all anyway."

"Yeah, but...I don't want you doing it cause you feel like you have to. I don't want you to do something you'll regret later on."

"It's not like that," you say with a one-shouldered shrug. "I won't. I mean...I trust you."

Now it's his turn to look away like he has no idea how to respond. "Yeah. I...okay. Whenever you decide you're ready."

You nod and go back to kissing him before you can say God knows what else, letting yourself be pulled halfway on top of him. It all feels good, you're relaxed and sighing in approval when his hand slides under your shirt and then-

*CRASH*

Both of you have already jumped to your feet when you hear Nick's voice traveling from down the hall. "It's cool, guys, I've got everything under control so- sorry!"

"What the fuck are you doing?" you call out to him, tugging your shirt down as you go out to investigate and find him standing in the kitchen holding a frying pan.

"Nothing, it's nothing. I got hungry, I decided I wanted eggs, and then I dropped some stuff." When he sees the murderous look in your eyes, he frowns insincerely. "Did I wake you up? It's okay, you can go back to sleep."

"I'm going to hurt you later," you warn as you shuffle back toward the bedroom.

"Oh hey, Liv? Before I forget..."

"Uh-huh...?"

"Kathy called while you were gone. Elliot's wife. Nice lady. Anyway, we're going to their house for brunch on Saturday."


End file.
